


A Warm Welcome

by Jon



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dwarves, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Porn With Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jon/pseuds/Jon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*EXPLICIT*<br/>A PWP aside from a longer fic I am working on. Set at the Company's arrival at Lake Town. ;) Don't like dwarf sexytimes, don't read. Or do, and be highly shocked!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warm Welcome

“I am Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror King under the Mountain! I return!”

The bedraggled, thin and dirty dwarf in his tattered blue cloak threw up his hands impressively with this statement, as if this gesture would be enough to make up for his less than kingly appearance at the Master of Laketown’s hall at this very moment. Indeed, at the entrance of the Laketown guards who escorted Thorin, Fili, Kili an Mr Baggins and this loud cry, all heads turned, and all eyebrows rose. Amidst the silence, a few whispers and drunken jeers. The Master of Laketown’s eyes bulged, silent, a speared potato hovering in mid air on it’s way to his mouth.

However, Thorin stood his ground, and his dark eyes penetrated the Master’s with a sure gaze, the same air of importance and pride around him that had won him past the guards at the entrance to Laketown. The gold chain which glinted about his neck, and his golden belt which he had cleverly hidden from the Elvenking, caught the Laketown Master’s eye, and his eyes narrowed in curiosity.

Behind Thorin stood his nephews, looking slightly cleaner. Fili was eyeing a nearby table hungrily, his eyes roving around the display of food and ale, which lay copiously on every surface.

Thorin shrugged off the heavy hand of a guard from his shoulder and started towards the table, motioning for Fili and Kili to come beside him, his black eyes darting around him. Suddenly, like a ghostly vision, he was surrounded as elves once again rose up in front of him. He swore under his breath- of course, there would be elves here. He glanced up at their attire: at least they were only simple raftsmen and not visiting courtiers. He took a calming breath as they clamoured at the Master’s table, saying of course that they were prisoners and had escaped (he smirked at ‘wandering vagabond dwarves’, indeed- that seemed a fitting description of his company now).

He was brought back to attention at the sound of the Master’s nasally voice.

“Is this true?” he said, peering down his nose at the group. He looked irritated, and to Thorin’s eyes, likely to believe the elves’ stories. He stepped up and cleared his throat, thinking quickly.

“It is true we were wrongfully waylaid by the Elvenking and imprisoned without cause as we journeyed back to our own land, but lock nor bar may hinder the homecoming spoken of old. Nor is this town in the Wood-elves’ realm. I speak to the Master of the town of the Men of the Lake, not to the raftsmen of the king.” He cast a sharp glance at the elves that stood before him, and then set his eyes on the Master, willing him to see sense.

The Master of Laketown’s expression was indifferent, and he quickly cast a gaze at his oldest advisor, who was looking, Thorin was pleased to note, in wonderment at him. The old man rose half out of his seat and leant towards the Master of Laketown, whispering something to him. He strained his ears to hear their hurried conversation, as the gathering in the hall started to buzz with chatter and excitement at Thorin’s words. ‘ _Surely… merely song… what about the Elvenking?_ ’ was some of what he heard, but no sooner had seconds past when another elder, seated at the far end of the table, rose, holding his goblet high shouting, ‘To the King! To King Thorin!’

Unheeding of any word from their Master, cacophany broke out amongst the tables, and Thorin turned to see men darting out of the great door, shouting that the King under the Mountain had returned. Fiddles and drums started up, and sweet to his ears was the sound of the old songs he had longed to hear other’s sing, as chants of his name filled the air with raucous joy.

_The King beneath the mountains,_

_The king of carven stone,_

_The lord of silver fountains_

_Shall come into his own!_

He grinned in spite of himself, and managed to turn back to the Master, and gave him, what he thought, was a slightly apologetic smile. People were streaming into the hall now, wild shouts coming from outside, and the sound of many feet on the wooden slats of the quays creaked and thudded.

The Master of the Lake had no choice, and graciously (so it seemed) bowed to Thorin and his companions at last.

“Well then come, my lord, may you have my own seat and celebrate your long awaited return!”

Thorin bowed in return an thanked him, settling himself next to the King’s advisor at his left, with Fili and Kili on his right (and Mr Baggins on the end, who was keeping very quiet Thorin was pleased to see; he didn’t feel like explaining hobbits right now). The Wood elves, Thorin noted, soon departed, scowling at him as he filled his wine glass. At the behest of the Master and his nobles, Thorin and the others piled their plates with food, and Thorin made only the conversation that was polite, as he was famished.

The others, most noticeably Fili, had abandoned their table manners completely. Thorin gave his blonder nephew a swift kick under the table as he saw him practically breaking a roast chicken in two with his hands, his mouth already full of cooked vegetables. A muffled ‘ow’ was the only response he got, and Fili continued to shovel food into himself.

“Brother, that is disgusting- have a knife and fork,” Kili hissed beside him, prodding him with the prongs. Fili muttered something similar to ‘up yours’, earning him another kick from his uncle, but Thorin had no time to further this, as once again there came a loud surge and roar in the crowd, and in through the door to much fanfare and banging of glasses and mugs came the 10 others, all looking in bewilderment at their surroundings. The Master of the Lake turned again to Thorin, eyebrows raised into his hairline.

“My companions who have travelled with me out of the West, my close and most noble friends,” Thorin offered by way of explanation. The Master said nothing, and waved his hand motioning for seats to be found for them. Thorin cast an eye over the lot, remembering the sorry state that they were in, and asked for doctors to be made available for those who needed attention. He shuddered as he remembered pulling various dwarves from the barrels, feeling the weight of each in his arms and praying that they were only unconscious. Luckily, after trolls and goblins and wolves and spiders, all were still here, and all had brightened incredibly at the warmth and food, especially Bombur, who was being supported lopsidedly by his two brothers.

‘I am almost crying tears of joy!’ cried the fat dwarf, as he lowered himself onto a bench, to the laughter of the other dwarves.

Beside him he could hear Kili joining in with the song going round the hall. Now at last, in the shadow of the Mountain itself, Thorin felt the adventure had truly begun.

The feast lasted hours. As food was consumed and ale was drunk, the weariness from the dwarves lifted somewhat, aided by the loud atmosphere, and all the attention that was directed at them. After being plied with glass after glass of wine, Thorin could feel himself becoming light-headed. What of it, he thought, as he leant back in the great oak chair, feeling the warmth of the torches and firelight on his face. For a moment he closed his eyes and let himself pretend the great wooden carved back of the chair was made of stone, the Mannish voices fading to chatter in Khuzdul. For a moment, he was king under the mountain.

When he opened his eyes, the vision of his fantasy stayed a little longer as he gazed at the table at which his companions sat, laughing and singing, with the men of the Lake refilling their tankards of ale time and time again and encouraging them to play instruments offered to them. Balin, having eaten his fill already, was contentedly fiddling at a viol one lady had given him, his face very red from the wine and the heat, and was singing in a deep voice to her as she giggled and clapped.

He imagined his dwarves clothed in fine robes and mail as they should be, their hair braided and gems of many hues. He imagined them all sitting beside him, and not lower than him. His heart wrenched as he set eyes on Gloin, who sat between his brother and Dwalin. The mad idea of going over to the table and asking Gloin to take a seat beside him fleetingly crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. He couldn’t; it would be questioned. He could go over and sit with his fellows, but tonight he had to sit at the Master’s table with his sister sons until the feast was over. He wished he hadn’t have thought of being close to Gloin; the ache in him to be near to him roused.

The fear of what had happened to him as he lay alone in his cell in Mirkwood, the sickening horror as he pulled his limp body from his barrel and the rush as he pressed on his stomach to force muddy lake water out of his mouth. The relief as Gloin spluttered with his head rested on his lap, the deep brown eyes fluttering open. All of this hit him now as he had time to absorb feelings once again, and it hit him hard. Gloin turned his head to catch his eye, and smiled at him, raising his tankard to him. The light from the torch bracket above him lit his hair up like flames, glinting copper and gold. He had a smudge of dirt over his long nose and on one cheek, which Thorin indicated with a hand gesture. Gloin momentarily looked confused, then studied himself in the pewter reflection of his tankard, rubbing at his face with his sleeve. He grinned again and winked at Thorin, and laid back in his chair, lazily re-braiding his beard, which strangely wasn’t looking as tatty as some of the others’.

Thorin quickly looked away, slightly blushing, and chastised himself. Not hours into his stay at a safe place and already he was fixated on the dwarf once again. _Yet, dwarves had always been obsessed with treasure…_

Thorin glanced up again, marvelling at the copper curls of hair falling into Gloin’s face, and the jewels that glinted at his ears and nose. The angular face, dark brown eyes and smooth skin marked by a few appealing battle scars here and there; aye, to Thorin, Gloin truly was _treasure_.

He looked down, and to take his mind off treasure, began to eat again.

Hours later, and all of the dwarves and Mr Baggins had been very hospitably accommodated in a large house by the great hall, in very luxuriously furnished rooms each with his own great bed. Mr Baggins had retired quite early, as the poor hobbit had a head cold, and had bade the dwarves all a goodnight. The rest had sat in the parlour of the house, smoking in contented silence. They had bathed and changed their clothes since the feast, and were looking more like dwarves than waifs.

It was late at night now, and they had all gone to bed. Apart from Thorin, whose mind still whirred with the excitement of the day. He often found it hard to relax in the evenings, even after a good deal of drink, of which he’d had. He was still a little tipsy, and decided to stretch his legs once more before going to bed. Silently, he sneaked out of the door, and out into the cool air of the lake, the crisp wind rushing through his hair and twisting the wind braids of his beard. Turning his back to the wind, he sheltered his pipe, and lit it again, before setting off.

He didn’t quite know where his feet were taking him, but he found himself drawn to the great hall once again, and decided he would sit in the openness and by the warmth at the dying embers of the fire. He found his way inside quite easily, and slipped amongst the great wooden pillars and tables, his eyes slowly growing accustomed to the half-light.

He was behind a table when he noticed a dark hooded figure languishing on the other side, and instinctively Thorin readied himself for attack. He man chuckled.

“Honestly, Thorin, you need to let your guard down,” came Gloin’s voice, and Thorin’s heart skipped a beat.

“Gloin- you startled me!” Thorin said, sitting down and taking a draw on his pipe.

_They were alone, for the first time since the quest began, they were truly alone._

“I thought you might come here, so I decided to wait,” said the other dwarf, and he swung himself over to Thorin’s side of the table. The king’s mouth grew suddenly very dry as he watched Gloin’s muscles flex as he climbed over. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself; he was behaving like a young dwarf again at the sight of his lover, at the mere knowledge that no one was around…

How long had it been since they last dared to touch each other, not in private- but even a touch of hands in company? For Thorin, the time being apart from Gloin had felt like years. He watched his treasure hungrily, as the moonlight illuminated it for him- the hair, the skin-

Thorin could bear it no longer.

He crushed their lips together, small gasps and a moan from Gloin taken by surprise the only sound in the hall apart from the crackling of the great fire dying. Thorin tasted that pipeweed Gloin liked to smoke- an odd one with an odd taste, Thorin forgot it’s name- and the rich casserole he had eaten. He pushed Gloin onto his back on the bench, dignity left along with his pipe which was burning out on the table.

“Thorin-” groaned Gloin, muffled as his lips were still being thoroughly kissed. His fingers reached up to unclasp his cloak at his neck, his hands trembling. Obviously, Thorin wasn’t the only one who had been eager for this meeting, and he bit gently on the dwarf’s lip, licking at it, then his tongue reached back into Gloin’s mouth and relentlessly plundered it again.

He felt Gloin’s arms reach around the back of his neck to pull him down closer, and straddled Gloin’s waist, feet resting on the floor either side. Lying chest to chest, they kissed beneath the table, the air close and hot between them. Gloin’s fingers weaved tightly in and out of Thorin’s hair, pulling when his lips were bitten or his hips were ground on slowly through the fabric of his trousers, whilst Thorin’s own fingers were trying to dig a way through Gloin’s cotton tunic, one finger already tracing the bare flesh of his navel. At the feel of Gloin’s warm skin growing ever hotter beneath him, Thorin’s head began to spin more, and after a minute of deep kissing he pulled away (nearly smacking his head on the table as he did so), and gasped for air. He looked down and saw with pride that already Gloin’s face was flushed and he was biting on his lip with his legs splayed out much wider either side of him. Thorin’s lust rose in his belly and he sat Gloin up, frantically undoing his shirt ties. There was no seduction here, no lovemaking. They both knew what they needed after so long.

As Gloin ripped his shirt open finally, Thorin shrugged his off in one fluid motion. It was colder than he had anticipated, and his nipples hardened at the rush of the air on his flesh. With a low moan, Gloin helped Thorin to his feet, and pushed him against the nearest wooden pillar, wrapping one arm around Thorin’s waist, the other trailing up his furred chest to gently tease one rigid bump between his fingers. Thorin whimpered as his groin tightened in response, and he was completely at the other dwarf’s mercy. Gloin knew it, of course: they had been doing this for over sixty years.

“Fuck-” Thorin gasped in Khuzdul, as his other nipple was pinched in turn. He felt Gloin’s other hand reach down- against his crotch, Gloin pulled the ties of his own trousers undone, and Thorin felt Gloin take himself in his hand, his trousers slipping to his knees. Thorin lurched forwards and grasped onto Gloin’s muscled shoulders, kneading the mass of tattooed skin.

“Ai… kuled-mir… Gloin,” he whispered into his ear, lips finding the hoop which pierced Gloin’s lobe and fixing around it, breath tickling the copper hair. He could feel Gloin losing control against himself; his hand was pumping his cock rhythmically as he gasped through bitten lips, and the other hand was scraping across Thorin’s stomach… lower….

Thorin threw his head back as it came to rest tantalisingly close to his throbbing cock, mere centimetres away from his shaft.

“Gloin, you fucking cock tease,” he ground out, his head swimming. He could feel Gloin, even in his very aroused state, let out a little very un-dwarf like giggle against his neck, upon which he’d now been tracing a pattern down to his collarbone with his tongue.

Gloin’s fingers traced lightly over the stiff cock in Thorin’s trousers, dipping to ever so gently rub at his balls, then back up again to circle the engorged cockhead. Clutching at Gloin was the only thing Thorin could do as his breath caught, and he spread his legs wider against the pillar, trying not to cry out. Gloin’s teasing carried on, and much to Thorin’s anguish, his hand didn’t go any further than lightly caressing him. Frantically, he moved his own hands own to the laces of his trousers, and tried to undo them, cursing the other dwarf in their own language. He had never felt such urgency in his life, not even when he was only just beginning to discover himself, and he blushed at his actions. He forced himself to take a breath, and pushed Gloin’s hand away from his crotch, trying to concentrate on undoing the laces. As he looked down, he moaned as he saw Gloin’s hand still toying with his penis, leaking a little fluid over his fingers. He bit his lip and looked up into Gloin’s hooded eyes.

“Does that look good, my lord?” asked Gloin seductively, his deep voice low like a purr in the silence of the room. The king under the mountain, who had so coherently rebuffed the elven raftsmen in front of the Master of Laketown, was reduced to a muttering wreck. Thorin didn’t even try to string words together, and instead focussed on letting himself out of the constraints of his trousers, as he heard the slick sound of Gloin slowly jacking himself off, occasionally panting his name into his neck.

A few seconds, and he was free. He moaned as he felt himself with his hand- he was harder than he’d been in a long while- and he stepped out of the leg holes to spread his legs for the act that he was so ready for.

“Down on your knees,” he commanded, his head resting back, and with a smirk Gloin complied, and slowly sank to the ground.

Thorin growled and ran his fingers through Gloin’s hair as the dwarf settled himself between his legs, a familiar place for him. Gloin started to kiss the insides of his thighs, running trails of kisses up to his hips, barely avoiding skimming Thorin’s rigid cock, which ached to be touched again. Thorin’s breath came in short, hard gasps, and he wound his fingers tighter in Gloin’s hair, urging his head up and closer to his groin… so close…. Gloin’s tongue licking across his abdomen…

Thorin shoved a knuckle into his mouth as he felt wetness and heat lapping at his head, frightened that there were guards stationed outside who may hear them. He let out a slight sob of relief and pulled Gloin closer to him with his free had, but the dwarf stayed his ground, teasing only the very tip of his cock with his tongue and lips, securing some fingers around the base of his penis.

“Gloin, please!” gasped Thorin in a raggedly, as Gloin once again took his balls in his fingers, rolling them and toying with them. Gloin dipped his head beneath his shaft, and his lips traced kisses where his fingers had been. He slipped one heavy testicle into his mouth, and sucked hard.

By now Thorin had three knuckles keeping himself silent. He pressed his head back into the wood, overwhelmed. He could smell the sharp scent of his arousal, and whimpered. Gloin’s fingers moved from the base of his shaft up and down now faster. Throwing caution out of the window, Thorin let go and moaned aloud, burying both hands in Gloin’s hair urging him upwards again. This time Gloin complied, and enveloped half the length of Thorin’s stiff cock in his mouth, drawing a hiss from his lover.

Thorin could only swear over and over again, as he tried to thrust deeper into Gloin’s throat. He could feel the muscles relaxing around him, and Gloin readjusted the angle of his head to take him wholly in his mouth. The dwarf looked up at him with wicked eyes, knowing this was a speciality of his Thorin enjoyed. Slowly, he drew the glistening, thick cock out of his throat, squeezing gently with his fingers, massaging with his lips as he reached the end, then with Thorin helplessly shuddering above him, started sucking.

Thorin was a sweaty mess as he plunged his cock into the awaiting mouth. He could feel himself losing what little control he had, and knew that this was going to be embarrassingly short Normally, he prided himself on his ability to last the night long in bed, but Gloin’s tongue licking and circling his cock as only he knew how to do made any perseverance worthless. The slick, wet sounds of him being pleasured filled his ears as he felt the incredible heat between his legs and the tightness in his balls intensify. His cockhead throbbed wantonly, and Thorin couldn’t hold on. Grabbing Gloin’s head, he fucked his mouth deeply and without mercy, steadily bringing himself over the edge of an incredible orgasm. He felt Gloin moan around his cock, and the vibrations finished him. With a cry, which he quickly tried to stifle by clenching his jaw, he came hard. His knees buckled underneath him; he grasped the wood behind him to steady himself, as with the last judders, he sank back panting, utterly finished. Gloin was still licking at his cock, sending small shocks through the dwarf’s groin, and with a sigh, he extracted his semi-erect penis from his mouth.

Gloin stood up stiffly and stretched his back, and Thorin groaned in arousal as he noticed some thick, white fluid dripping from the corner of his mouth, and reached out with one shaking hand to wipe it. He curiously looked down and noticed in surprise that Gloin had also completed. All over his stomach. His breath caught again, and he felt his cock twitch and the sight of it. Thorin licked his lips and growled; he longed to make the dwarf even messier, perhaps in more pleasant surroundings.

Suddenly, Gloin’s head whipped around, and he scrutinised the side entrance which lead out to their rooms.

“Come,” he said, turning back to Thorin and taking his hand, “we have a few hours before dawn, and I would not wish the guards to catch us!” Suddenly very aware of his own nudity, Thorin quickly pulled on his trousers and shirt. Gloin barely had time to pull on his cloak, when the sound of footsteps entering the hall sent them running for the side entrance. Feeling like young dwarves again, they laughed as they ducked out of sight, and Thorin grasped Gloin’s hand as he pulled him towards the house.

“Ready for round two, Glo?” he whispered, checking back to see if they were being followed.

“If you can pin me down!”

“Is that a challenge?”

 

Inside the great hall of Laketown, the guard who had entered the main door stood puzzled. Walking over to a table at the far end, he picked up the still smoking pipe on the table and turned it over: it was warm. Someone had obviously been here recently. He studied it closely, looking at the markings around it and the odd shape; it was a dwarf-made pipe. Had his companion swore to him he had heard dwarven voices coming from inside the hall not five minutes past? Feeling a chill wind on the back of his neck, he looked up and saw that the side door was ajar! Alarmed, he went to, and closed it. In the morning he would bring the pipe to the dwarves and find out which one of them had gone on a midnight walk-about in his Master’s great hall. He blinked in tiredness and looked out of the window, seeing a dark orange smudge on the horizon which made the Lonely Mountain glow ominously.

“ _The King beneath the mountain, the king of carven stone…_ ” he began to chant softly. He wondered if the old stories he was told as a child really would come to pass. Would he fulfil his childhood long dream of seeing a dragon? Was there even a dragon? He had been debating this for the past hour with his comrade, and with the song once again in his head, went out to guard the gate again.


End file.
